


I Gladly Feast on Those Who Would Subdue Me

by Meme_Cracra



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meme_Cracra/pseuds/Meme_Cracra
Summary: When growing up in a world full of magic, monsters and other multi dimensional beings, one was bound to meet people with weird powers and abilities from time to time. After more than forty years as a sorceress, Yennefer could say she'd seen some crazy shit already. There were not many things that could actually surprise her nowadays.So, what the fuck was this bard.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 99
Kudos: 613





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there !  
> I'm back with a new story, who would have thought. Unsurprisignly, because I can't have enough of it, this is a non-human Jaskier centered fic. This should be a bit more plot heavy than 'Après la pluie' was though, hope you'll like it :D  
> As I already warned previously , english is not my native langage, so please pardon my french - literaly.  
> There should be 6 or 7 chapters. First 3 are written and I'll upload as I write more. Please let me know in the comments if you like it :D  
> Bonne lecture ~

When growing up in a world full of magic, monsters and other multi dimensional creatures, one was bound to meet people with weird powers.  
After more than forty years as a sorceress, Yennefer could say she'd seen some crazy shit already. There were not many things that could actually surprise her nowadays.  
  
So what the hell.

On what had started just like any other dull days in this shithole, a witcher had rushed into the mansion and brought a bard, asking her to heal him. A welcomed diversion and an opportunity she would not miss to harness a new power by taming the djinn's. She had not paid much attention to the human slowly healing in her bed, focusing instead on the very nicely distracting witcher in her bath. 

It was only once she'd sent the witcher to do her bidding and went to check on the bard that she noticed something amiss. The man had stopped breathing. She hurried next to him, set on helping him - she had promised the witcher after all and started scanning him more in depth, looking for the problem. That’s when she heard it. His heart was still beating strongly in his chest. 

It made no sense. Blood had clogged in his lungs, stopped any air flow - how she’d missed the still bleeding wounds slowly filling his throat she did not know either. Given the amount of blood there, it had been some time since he’d been able to draw breath. And still, his heart kept beating, his other organs virtually unharmed by the lack of air. 

Curious despite herself, she stayed next to him for a few minutes. His face remained as pale as it had been when he’d arrived, chin dotted in blood specks. She could see his eyes moving under his eyelids, as it would if he were dreaming. His heart, still rhythmically beating, was pushing blood through the bard’s body, impossibly disregarding the huge clots that had formed in his veins. This man should be dead.

As she started draining the blood in his lungs with a handwave, healing whatever wounds had been left behind her last spell, she racked her brain for any creatures she’d learn about that could survive as he did. Many could go on long minutes holding their breath -witchers could dive for over twenty minutes after all- but none seemed to fit the bard. The undeads of course, such as vampires, did not need to breathe, but then they had no heartbeat either, unlike the man. 

The man lying on the bed in front of her made no sense. But, now that she had fully healed him, she knew he would wake up soon. She had preparations to make for the ritual. This mystery would have to wait for some other time.

* * *

Since that day Geralt had messed up her spell with the djinn, they just kept on meeting. It was never planned, she even once did her best to try and avoid him just to realise they were once again staying at the same inn. And, just like every other time they’d seen each other, they ended up in bed together. Not that it was a hardship to fuck the witcher of course, he was an experienced and considarate lover, always eager to please and be pleased. But she could not fully explain this pull, this magnetism that sent her in his arms every time she saw him. And so she ended up pushing him away come morning, keeping him at bay because she could not trust what she could not understand. That of course did not stop it from happening, again and again.

The bard was with the witcher more often than not when their path crossed. She tried to learn more about him, still unsure as to what he was exactly. The paleness she’d thought caused by his wounds was still here. No matter the time of the year, his skin did not seem to tan or redden in the sun either way. There was not much else, as far as appearances went, to hint at his otherness. She’d scanned him with a spell twice and each time, he’d tensed up and glared daggers at her, even though he should not have been able to feel anything. But she didn’t spend enough time with him to find out anything else, which left her curious and frustrated.

Because, just as that day they first met, he disliked her. He would avoid her as much as he could and, if they were in the same room for more than five minutes, would be as rude and insulting as he could, using his natural wit to try and rile her up. He would glare at her and clearly state his dissatisfaction, trying to get Geralt to leave, go to another tavern because obviously this one was infested with vermins, as he would say. 

As she did not like him much either, that suited her just fine. She could admit to enjoying their banting somewhat, which made suffering his presence bearable, but she did not like the flamboyant bard. At first, she’d believe his animosity to be simple jealousy. It’s not like the bard’s affection for Geralt was discreet. The witcher was probably the only person in the whole continent who had not caught on, oblivious to the love songs Jaskier kept on writing and singing in every tavern. But she’d come to realise that it was more than just a petty envy. It ran deeper. It was a full on distrust that made him leave in a matter of seconds, anytime it was only the two of them. It showed in how hard he tried to never have her at his back, how he would always keep her in sight. 

She’d stop pushing once she’d realise that he felt unsafe around her. She did not mind causing pain and fear where it was deserved or needed, but it was not the case here. She might dislike him but it seemed she was bound to see him semi regularly, and it would be easier to simply respect the distance he wished for.

That she knew what it was to be scared and recognized the vulnerability his aggressiveness was poorly hiding had nothing to do with it. 

* * *

That is not to say that she had not noticed any other strange things with the bard over the years. Once, they shared a camp near the Pontar. That evening, her only real interest was to get Geralt between her thighs as fast as she could - the man was gifted, sue her - but the witcher, given the proximity of the river, was worried about drowners creeping up on them during the night. He refused to come into her luxurious tent, instead opting to spend the night on watch near the fire, meditating. Rather than to stay alone in the tent, she joined them for dinner, going so far as to share the food she’d conjured up from Novigrad. 

The bard, sitting at Geralt’s feet, back against the witcher’s leg, reluctantly thanked her. Geralt chuckled and ruffled his hair, teasing. Jaskier shared a small smile with his friend and ate the food without much more fuss. Geralt, hand now on Jaskier's shoulder, asked her about the research she’d been doing recently -she’d been looking for books on some spring deities, supposedly able to bring fertility- which started a whole conversation about the best places to do research around the continent. 

Jaskier was, as usual, not participating much in the debate other than to disagree with most everything she was saying. He grew silent as time went on, looking at the fire, strumming his lute absentmindedly. Yennefer did not pay him much attention until she saw him start from the corner of her eye. She kept talking to Geralt, ignoring him -he’d probably just thought of a new lyric. But strangely, she could see him look around, as if searching for something before his gaze seemed to lock onto it. He beamed at supposedly nothing, righting his grasp on the lute and started to play a small giddy song. His eyes never left the dark patch he’d first found. Discreetly, not stopping her argument in favor of Oxenfurt’s libraries, she turned her gaze to where the bard was looking. She saw nothing but shadows, dancing with the fire's flickers.

Just as she was about to let it go, she spotted it. There in the dark near the trees, something at the edge of what her eyes and magic could perceive was swaying gently to Jaskier's music. She stopped pretending to pay attention to what Geralt was saying and turned fully to the flowing shape. Shapes, she corrected herself, noticing other dark entities looming at the edge of the forest. She squinted, tried to make sense of what she was seeing, but it was just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue, eluding her efforts. 

Jaskier kept on playing all the while, unbothered by the sudden attention. Geralt was watching too now but he did not seem surprised by what he was seeing. Yennefer looked back to the bard, ready to question him about the creatures, and froze.

He looked the same and yet completely different. Shadows sank his cheeks, thinned his usually unfairly plump lips and darkened the lines around his eyes morbidly. For a heartbeat, she almost believed she was looking at a skull, but his blue eyes blazing in the fire broke the illusion. 

When he noticed she was looking at him, he turned and met her gaze. Slowly, a smirk stretched his mouth in a predatory smile, all teeth and violence.

“Jaskier.”

Geralt's chastising voice broke whatever spell had taken hold over the camp. A shiver ran down her spine. Jaskier, all traces of savageness gone, was smiling sweetly up to the witcher, head on Geralt’s knee. 

She could not get out of her mind the eerie grin the bard had been wearing a moment before. She warded her tent that night and left at first light.

* * *

Yennefer's disappointment was fueling her furry and that's what she chose to focus on as she walked back to her tent, rather than the sadness crushing what was left of her heart. 

This fucking moron had ruined it all, had artificialy tied their path and feelings with his last wish, all because of some manly condescending hero complex. She'd not needed his help then, did not need it now and would not need it in the future. She would find another djinn and would undo this shit, on her own, without stupid witcher to fuck things up. 

She slashed the air with angry motions, packing her belongings when she heard it. Furious shouting resonating from higher on the path towards the dragon's cave. Geralt's ire had found an innocent target in Jaskier then. She still did not like the bard, often found him creepy even. But she couldn't help but feel bad for the man who'd always so openly cared for the witcher.

She slowed down, packing by hand instead of using her magic. A few minutes later she heard shuffling and sniffling behind her. Jaskier was packing his things too, shaking with silent sobs. That comforted her in her decision. Yennefer reached in her pack and grabbed a small pendant.

She walked up to the bard. He stopped but only partly turned his head to her, jaw defying and proud despite the tears running down his face. She extended her hand, palm up and open.

“It's an emergency alert. If you're ever in trouble, press on the stone and say my name. I'll come.”

She did not offer comfort. She was bad at it and it would not be welcomed. But she could be an ally, if he accepted her offer. He looked at her hand a moment before lifting his own to take the black pendant. He grabbed her fingers and squeezed it once before he put the necklace in his pocket. They nodded their goodbyes and went their own separate ways. She had a djinn to find.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter out ! This one focuses more on Jaskier and Geralt <3  
> Enjoy !

Geralt had not been ready for life with Jaskier. The blinding smiles and overwhelming energy the bard exuded had first grated on the witcher's nerves and he'd often dreamt of abandoning the bard whenever they got to a tavern in the first weeks. But Jaskier seemed to see whenever this idea grew in Geralt's mind, and on those days he would be calmer, softer but all the more clingy for it. 

That's how they kept on travelling together for a few weeks, then a few months until they spent most of their time together and all thought of getting rid of Jaskier disappeared. 

It had taken some adjusting to, travelling with someone after so many years spent alone, but it had been less painful than he would have expected. The pace was slower but not by much. They stopped more often in cities so Jaskier could sing, which also brought the witcher new contracts surprisingly often. And Jaskier, though he complained about it often, knew how to survive in the wild and could pull his weight around the camp. All in all, Geralt was surprised to admit that, a year in, they were a good team. 

What had taken more time for Geralt to live with was the constant affection Jaskier showered him with. This he had not anticipated nor known how to respond to. The bard was of course an obviously emotional being, one just had to listen to his songs to realise that. Jaskier loved freely and vocally, sharing his wonder at the world and those that lived in it loudly. But Geralt had not expected it to be directed at him too. 

The first time Jaskier leaned his head on his shoulder, Geralt had started so hard he’d dislodged the bard. After that he’d been more careful but Jaskier still surprised him with small touches most days. He’d also give him gifts any chance he could. Geralt could not recall exactly how many wildflowers bouquets Jaskier had given him - thirteen - or how many times he’d ordered just the pastries Geralt had been craving but did not dare to order given the price, only to have the sugary treats thrust at him. 

This was something Geralt had never known. He was used to the brand of Vesemir’s tough love, distant yet warm. He understood the violent brotherly affection he shared with Eskel and Lambert. He also knew the fleeting but ardent passion shared with bedmates. But this was something else altogether. This was slow and soft, everyday care. Geralt did not know what to do with it, so he did nothing, which did not seem to faze Jaskier at all.

And what’s more, Geralt now often found himself staring wonderingly at bright doublets on stalls. He also had a small supply of lute strings in his pack, just in case Jaskier forgot to buy some. He’d added new spices to their tack one day after Jaskier had marvelled at a peppery meat bun in a tavern. Geralt knew the honey to thyme ratio of Jaskier’s weekly infusions. 

He also bought Jaskier a small but sturdy dagger. Because the Path was no place for a clumsy unharmed bard, even a non-human one. Geralt had of course realised Jaskier was not a regular human in a matter of days, though he did not know what he was exactly. 

The first thing that made him question Jaskier’s nature was that, for someone so overtly loud, the bard was awfully quiet. His heart, for starters, beat slowly and quietly, almost as much as his own. And his thread was light, lighter than any humans Geralt had ever known. Jaskier had even actually managed to walk up on him more than once, as if appearing out of thin air. Geralt had not startled, no matter what the bard had to say about it, barely raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearances. And if as a trained bard it was normal for Jaskier to have learned breathing technique, for him to be able to control his inhales and exhales to perfection, it was more than that, far more than just knowing how to project his voice. Geralt could simply not hear him breath. He saw the rise and fall of his breast, saw his nose flare when he smelled a flower but he still could not hear a thing. No human should be that silent, therefore Jaskier was not human.

Jaskier was also often, let’s say, unusual by human standards. Some might say creepy even. Geralt had once woken up to the man cooing over a tarantula, letting the thing walk lazily on his arms, feeding it leftover meat from yesterday's dinner. The small beast had spent the day hidden under Jaskier baby blue silk doublets, the bard petting it whenever it poked its beady eyed head from his collar. Geralt had not commented but he'd given Jaskier a wide berth that day - the thing was huge.

A clear autumn evening found them camping in a small clearing. Dark naked tree branches surrounded them, red leaves blanketed the ground, reflecting the light of the fire and giving the place a warm but slightly eerie atmosphere. Jaskier was gathering some more firewood while Geralt prepared the rabbits he'd caught. 

A sudden caw had him raise his head from his task. There, not two meters away, was a crow. The bird was looking at him. It hopped closer twice and cawed again. Geralt stared. 

A second bird landed, then a third and then a fourth and a fifth. Silent and still, they all looked at him. The first one, bigger than the other, hoped and cawed again. Geralt stared some more.

"Oh my." Jaskier exclaimed, almost dropping the woods he'd been carrying as he entered the clearing. "That's quite a crowd you've gathered here Geralt."

Geralt lifted a hand and tried to shoo the crow away. It just looked at him, judgmental - how could a bird be judgemental, Lambert would ask later, but Geralt could swear that this particular bird was judging him and found him lacking. 

"Come on, don't be mean. They just want to share some of our dinner." Jaskier settled down next to him and put the three rabbits to roast over the fire. "Hello dears, please make yourselves at home, it'll be ready soon."

"Jas, they're birds. They can't understand you." Geralt tried to tease. But the crows seemed to have actually understood and settled down around the fire, ruffling their feathers and grooming. 

Dumbfounded, Geralt kept on staring dumbly as Jaskier babbled happily to the birds, complimenting their shiny feathers and commenting on the currently unusually low crop of acorns of all things.

Once the rabbits were cooked, he handed one to Jaskier, took one for himself and, after a long moment of hesitation, threw the third one to the birds. They grouped around it and ripped it to shreds, leaving no meat on the bones. In the blink of an eye, there was nothing left of it.

The crows turned to them as one and let out a cacophony of caws before hoping a bit and flying up in the trees, where they stayed throughout the evening. Geralt ignored them and did not think of the strange event anymore that night.

Come morning, he was woken up by soft whispers next to him. He sat up and yawned widely before opening his eyes. Jaskier, barely awake himself, was sitting in his bedroll, arm extended and, perched on his hand, was yesterday’s crow. 

Jaskier giggled, as if the crow had just said the funniest joke. Geralt hummed. Maybe he was still dreaming. 

“Hello darling, did you sleep well ? Look who came !” He brought his hand closer to Geralt. To his astonishment, the crow bowed his head and he answered, more out of reflexes than politeness. “He’s come to thank us, he even brought gifts.” 

Geralt then noticed the small pile of herbs and shiny stones that stood near his feet. Amongst the leaves, he could actually identify some pretty rare herbs, and the stones, once grinded, would be useful for his potions and decoctions. 

“Thank you.” Geralt almost asked, disbelieving but unwilling to anger the potentially sentient bird. It cawed on last time, bowed and flew away, leaving a delighted bard and a very, very confused witcher behind.

* * *

These were the day to day things that hinted at Jaskier's true nature but there were other particular events that came to confirm Geralt’s suspicion. One evening, after a particularly well paid contract, they were sitting around their camp's fire, getting shit faced on expensive Toussaint wine. Jaskier always got flirty when drunk so Geralt tried not to read anything in the lewds look the bard sent his way. He did not react either when Jaskier sat down next to him with the third bottle and plastered himself on his side. But by the end of the bottle, when Jaskier stood up to get the last one from their pack and racked his nails up Geralt's back on his way, the witcher was admittedly somewhat distracted.

That's why he did not realise Jaskier was not looking in the right bag for the wine, that the ringing clicks were that of his witcher potions. It was only once Jaskier uncorked Cat and the foul smell reached him that Geralt paid attention. He was about to tease the bard for being so drunk he'd confused potions for good wine when Jaskier brought the vial to his lips and bottomed it up. 

“No !”

Geralt stood up so fast he stumbled, dizy, almost sending them both on the ground on his haste to reach Jaskier. 

“You have to throw up Jas, now, it's one of my potions, it’s a deadly poison !”

“What ? But you drink it all the time !” Jaskier, confused, squinted at the vial.

“I'm a witcher, and it's toxic to me too, you moron.” He thrusted what little salt they had at Jaskier, trying to get him to swallow it so he would throw up, so he would have a chance to survive this. 

But Jaskier was not having it, pushing his hand away. “Geralt, come on Geralt, stop. Stop !” Jaskier took Geralt's hands in his own, squeezing. “I'm fine darling. Look at me, I am fine.”

And indeed, he looked just fine. Potions were fast acting, they had to be. But it had almost been two full minutes and Jaskier did not seem to suffer from any adverse effects.

“How do you feel ?”

“Perfectly fine ! Peachy in fact.” He interlaced their fingers, smiling reassuringly at Geralt. “It tasted pretty good actually, all spicy. I don't know why you complain so much when you drink it.”

Geralt sighed in relief, adrenalin still running through him. He'd never sobered up that fast. He grabbed the wine bottle from the other bag, pointing at it emphatically to Jaskier, and went back to sit next to the fire. He kept an eye on Jaskier during the rest of the evening and the next day too, just to be sure but, as the bard had claimed, he seemed fine. No human could survive the toxins contained in his potions and even witchers had to be careful with the dosage.

It was not hard to conclude from there that Jaskier was not human. But since he'd never been anything but kind and awfully annoying and it seemed to grant him some kind of resilience, Geralt did not care one bit. 

* * *

Three years into their friendship, they were attacked by bandits. It was a regular occurence, especially here on the Skellige islands where pirates were legion. But these bandits were organised and numerous and Geralt had his hands full dodging and slashing at his own attackers. He could hear Jaskier fighting behind him and cast a quick qen his way, hoping the shield would be enough to deflect any attacks aimed at the bard.

After gruelling minutes of fighting, he managed to slay the last of his opponents. 

“Well, that’s unpleasant.”

Sighing in relief at hearing Jaskier’s voice, Geralt wiped his sword on his now ruined pants, getting the worst of the grim off before sheathing it. He turned around to check on Jaskier and froze.

Protruding from the back of his neck, an arrow pierced through Jaskier's throat. Another one stood out of his right thigh and a dagger was embedded in his belly. Lightheaded, Geralt walked toward the bard, a lump rapidly growing in his throat.

“Jaskier.” He croaked, voice breaking.

“Yes ?” Seeing the witcher’s pale face and suspiciously shiny eyes, Jaskier shook his head and walked to him, taking his hand. “Oh no my dear, you have to breathe, please Geralt, take a breath with me. Are you hurt ?” 

Jaskier looked him over, uncaring of his own wounds. Geralt took a shaky breath and lifted his free hand to the dagger's hilt.

“Oh.” Jaskier looked down at it too. Understanding bloomed on his face and he chuckled softly, making the dagger move morbidly on his stomach. “I guess it can be a bit unsettling, yes, I’m sorry I did not think of that sooner.” He took the hilt in hand and pulled.

“Jas !” Geralt pushed his hand on the wound to stop the blood flow, except there was no blood. He lifted Jaskier’s shirt, indifferent to Jaskier’s falsely indignant squeak, looking for the wound. There was only a thin, unbleeding cut where the dagger had stabbed him. “It can’t be.”

“And yet, here we are.” Jaskier pinched the broken flesh back together and, under Geralt’s eyes, the skin knitted itself back until there was no trace left of the wound. The bard also tore off the arrow in his tight. But as he tried to remove the one in his neck, pushing it back and forth unsuccessfully - Geralt was not ashamed to admit this almost made him sick up right then and there - he looked to him with pleading eyes.

“Would you mind ? This is terribly inconvenient. If you could just break the tip I could slide it out.”

Bearing his neck to Geralt, Jaskier waited. Slowly, stunned, Geralt reached out. He steadied the arrow with one hand, feeling Jaskier Adam's apple move under his palm. With the other, he grabbed the arrowhead and snapped it with a twist of his wrist. Jaskier then reached behind him and pulled the shaft out.

“Ah much better. It’s so uncomfortable to have something in your neck you know ?”

Geralt looked on as Jaskier went to retrieve the packs they’d dropped in their haste. He could not smell Jaskier’s blood and any trace of the wounds had already disappeared. It was then that Geralt truly understood the extent of Jaskier’s strangeness. 

That day, overwhelmed by relief and confusion, Geralt did not notice the corpses lying at Jaskier’s feet. He did not see the torn limbs, nor the blackened edges of some of their wounds. That would have probably been too much to come to terms with in one day. 

* * *

He'd asked once, just out of curiosity. The bard had laughed for a moment and cocked his head with a mischievous smile. 

“Now my darling friend, where would be the fun in telling you ?”

That had concluded the conversation and Geralt never brought it up again. 

* * *

Then the dragon hunt happened. Geralt had not been ready for life without Jaskier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter here on time for the weekend :D  
> It's a bit small but it's where the plot starts. Next chapter is almost ready and is waaaaay longer. 
> 
> Hope you like this one, let me know in the comments !
> 
> Bonne lecture <3

Leaving Kaer Morhen at the end of winter, Geralt had not anticipated to be gone for long. Not that he'd thought finding Jaskier would be easy, but he knew the bard, his habits, his preferences. A year apart would not have changed those and Geralt was confident that he would meet Jaskier before the end of summer. But autumn was starting and he'd found no trace of his friend. Not in Oxenfurt, not in Novigrad or even in Toussaint. Anyone he'd asked on the way had said the same things, no one had heard of Jaskier for some time now. He'd spent the winter teaching in Oxenfurt as he often did, but he'd left early and had not been seen since. 

Geralt was traveling back north, stopping at every tavern he crossed to ask for a bard with cornflower blue eyes. That's why he was now sitting in a shitty inn somewhere deep in the Velen swamps. 

He'd know it would be complicated but now he was also deeply worried for Jaskier's wellbeing. The bard could take care of himself of course, but since Cintra's fall, anyone with ties to Ciri and, by extension, Geralt could be a person of interest to the Nilfgaardian Empire. He'd promise Yennefer not to come back to the keep without the bard and he wouldn't. Not that he needed additional motivation. 

Geralt wanted to see his friend. He felt the hole his absence had left in his life like a missing limb. It had taken barely a day after he'd sent Jaskier away for the witcher to admit he'd made a mistake. He had to do right by Jaskier for his harsh words and shitty behaviour. He'd wanted to go after Jaskier right away but by then he'd heard of the Nilfgardian army advancing on Cintra and he'd had to go there. After that, it’d been all about finding Ciri and getting her to safety. 

They’d met Yenn on their way to the keep. The witch, hands badly burnt after her battle at Sodden, had been convalescing in Rinde. Geralt had first been reluctant to go to her when the villagers told him a witch with lilac eyes now dwelled in the woods nearby. But Ciri had been exhausted and needed more comfort than a bedroll could give. So they’d gone to the small house on the hill to meet Yennefer. She’d first tried to close the door back on his face, confirming that yes, she was still angry. But then she’d seen Ciri. 

She’d welcomed them, offered a hot bath and dinner. Once Ciri had fallen asleep, they’d talked. Yennerfer was too weak to portal them all the way to Kaer Morhen but she offered to travel with them, for safety she said. That’s how they’d come to go north together, dodging Nilfgardian’s patrols when they could, killing the soldiers when they couldn’t. They’d barely been able to make it through the pass in the end, snow up to their ankles, freezing wind howling around them. 

Winter had been spent resting and getting to know one another. Ciri had barely had to turn her doe eyes to the other witchers to win them over. Geralt had never seen Vesemir doting so obviously on someone. Lambert and Eskel spoiled her too, giving into her every whim. She did take advantage of it, and Geralt had to step in a few times, but she’d been through a lot, had needed the attention and care and he was loath to deny her anything this first few weeks. They'd all enjoyed the cozy winter atmosphere of the keep, feeling safe for the first time in months. 

But time passed and, now that Geralt had not needed to focus solely on Ciri's wellbeing, he couldn't stop from wondering about Jaskier's whereabouts. Yennefer had not munched her words about his past behaviour, had defended the bard’s honor - to Geralt’s greatest surprise - and sent him out the moment snow started melting. Geralt felt uneasy leaving Ciri, but she was with Vesemir and Yen, safe and learning more about magic and fighting by the day. After one last hug, he'd left her and gone to chase his bard.

A year was the longest they'd been apart since they'd first met. IfJaskier had been little more than a pretty but really annoying boy back then, he'd quickly become a constant in Geralt's life, a familiar and friendly face among the crowd. Looking back, Geralt was astonished to see how fast Jaskier had nestled himself in Geralt's heart. He'd taken up a space all of his own, become as important to him as his brothers were but in a whole different way. Geralt was not verbose when it came to feelings, did not know how to articulate or even identify them clearly. He knew that Jaskier was important to him and that was that. Or so he told himself. 

It had been simpler with Yen. He liked her wit, her strength, her fiery temper. The time they’d spent together had been a storm of emotion, lust chief among them. Geralt knew now how unfair he'd been to her and Jaskier both, how cowardly his attitude had been all along. This was just one more thing he'd have to apologize for. 

As the evening went on, Geralt nursed his ale and planned his next stops, trying very hard to ignore the rising noise in the tavern. He gestured to the innkeeper for another tankard and some food. He would leave tomorrow and, if everything went as planned, would be camping for at least the next two weeks. Best to take this last chance to eat a good copious meal while he could. There was still plenty of time before winter but he had to be fast if he wanted to be able to find Jaskier and travel back north before the snow. 

Right after the innkeeper had put down a plate and a full tank in front of him, the tavern’s door open, letting in the cold late afternoon air. Geralt reflexively looked up, too used to assessing his surroundings not to. He stopped suddenly, tankard halfway up. Jaskier, the man Geralt had been looking for for months now, had just walked in. As if searching for him, the bard’s gaze travelled over the room before zeroing on him. 

Geralt didn’t dare to shift, scared he would send Jaskier away with any sudden moves. But the bard’s face softened and a warm smile bloomed on his lips. As he crossed the room to reach the corner table Geralt had claimed, the witcher took stock of his friend. 

Jaskier looked alright, though maybe a bit thinner than he had been last year. His hair was cut short - compared to Jaskier’s usual standard - and stubble darkened his cheeks. His clothes were probably what surprised Geralt the most. Dark leather pants, a heavy brown cottoned shirt and a grey wool jacket with only some small white embroidery on the sleeves. No daring colors, no silk at all. This was so uncharacteristic that Geralt had a hard time saying if this suited Jaskier or not but this was admittedly more adapted to the road than his usual doublets. 

Jaskier reached his corner and sat himself in front of Geralt, still smiling.

“Fancy seeing you here witcher. I’ve heard someone’s been asking around for me but I had a hard time believing it was you.”

Geralt took a second to drink in the sight of his friend, to enjoy the ring of his voice - he’d missed him.

“I missed you.” He admitted, almost despite himself. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though when he saw the blush growing on Jaskier’s cheeks. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend ? There is no way the real Geralt would willingly say something like that.” Jaskier waved the inkeep over and ordered an ale for himself before turning back to him. “I’m happy to see you too wolf.”

Jaskier had yet to say his name. He’d not touched him, not lunged for a hug as was his habit. Geralt did not like the guarded air that had still not left him, the distance that he’d himself created between them. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say to apologize, prepared arguments to explain what had happened and how hard he would work for it never to happen again. But now facing the consequences of his actions, words eluded him. He leaned forward and put his hand on Jaskier's cheek, shocking the bard speechless. He let his hand slide down to Jaskier’s neck and brought his head forward, bringing their foreheads together.

“Jas, I’m sorry. There’s no excuses for what I said. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

Jaskier leaned into the touch, eyes closed. He breathed deep once, twice before he dipped and placed a soft kiss on Geralt’s cheek.

“Well, I must say I did not expect such a clear apology. I am pleasantly surprised, don’t misunderstand me, it just usually takes more work to get you to admit to any big bad feelings. And true I expected better of you and had we met during the week after it happened I would have kicked your ass. But I know you my friend and I’ve forgiven you a long time ago already.”

A wave of affection flooded Geralt and he hid his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck for a second, unwilling to face the world just yet, basking in his friend’s forgiveness. He let go eventually, leaning back in his seat. Jaskier looked a bit red but his smile was blinding. 

“I wanted to come to you sooner but something came up.”

“Did you find her ?!” Jaskier interrupted him, perching on the edge of the bench. Geralt did not need him to name Ciri to know how Jaskier was talking about.This was a subject they’d often talked about, finding his child surprise.

“Yes. It was not easy and took some time but we found each other. She’s safe now in the keep.”

“Oh thank the gods.” Jaskier let out with a sigh. “I tried going to Cintra when I heard what happened but there were just too many patrols everywhere. I went to Oxenfurt, I know more people there, I hoped someone would hear of a lost child or something and I would be able to find her but I had no luck.”

Geralt couldn’t help a small smile. Despite their fall out, Jaskier had tried to help his child surprise. The man was too kind for his own good sometimes. 

“It was all chaotic by then, you’d have had a hard time finding her amongst all the other lost children fleeing the armies.”

“I’m so happy you found each other. How is she ?”

“Why don’t you come with me and see for yourself ?”

“What ?” Jaskier’s eyes opened comically wide, mouth hanging open. 

“I’ve been looking for you since spring. Come to Kaer Morhen with me. It’s a lot safer there right now than anywhere else on the continent. Ciri can't wait to meet you too.” Geralt did not say ‘and I want you with me’ but it was a close thing. Emotions flashed on Jaskier’s face, too fast for Geralt to make sense of them all.

“My darling witcher, I can’t express how deeply honored I’d be to go with you and meet her. It’s just that …” Jaskier’s voice cracked and he frowned suddenly. Geralt had anticipated some reluctance - they had not seen each other for a year because of his bad temper after all - but this seemed different. Jaskier was picking at his fingers nervously, eyes down.

“Jas, is everything alright ?”

“Well actually, I’ve been looking for you too, because I missed you of course, but it’s just that, you see, I mean.”

Geralt took Jaskier’s hands, stopping his fidgeting and mumbling at once. Finally meeting his eyes, Jaskier straightened and shook himself. He released one of his hands and rummaged for something in his pocket. He layed a single coin on the table between them.

“I’m tossing a coin to my witcher.” 

Geralt looked at the coin in front of him then back at Jaskier. 

“What do you need ?”

Jaskier blinked once, twice, as if surprised by his instant willingness to help. “Well, I’d gladly explain it all to you right now but I think we might need Yennefer’s help too. Do you happen to know where she might be ?”

Confused - since when did Jaskier voluntarily seek out Yennefer - Geralt answered. “She’s at the keep too. She’s teaching Ciri.”

“Oh. That’s convenient I guess.” Jaskier looked away, trying to hide a sad frown. Geralt did not understand what brought this on, but before he could ask Jaskier downed the last of his ale and stood up, pulling at the hand he was still holding. 

“Come on, there’s no reason to wait then.”

“Jas, it’s late afternoon. It makes no sense to go now, we won’t reach the next village before dark.” Geralt followed him nonetheless, shivering as the cold air surrounded him when they got out. Jaskier hummed thoughtfully, stirring him towards the stables and zeroing on Roach.

“Sweet girl, how I’ve missed you.” He dropped Geralt’s hand and put his arms around Roach’s neck, rubbing his face on her coat. “Did you miss me too ? Of course you did, who else braided your mane with flowers, hm ?”

Geralt smiled at the sight. Everything was not fixed yet, he would have to work to make sure he made it up to Jaskier. But for the first time in a year, he felt able to breathe fully once again. 

He had not had time to take off Roach’s tack yet, planning on doing it after his dinner, so Jaskier simply had to guide her out of her stall after he fastened his own bags and lute to her saddle. Geralt was surprised by his eagerness to leave but, without knowing the full detail of Jaskier’s predicament, he did not want to question it. Jaskier did not go to the road though, instead leading them to the forest where he stopped after just a few minutes.

“Jas ?”

“Do you trust me ?”

Jaskier extended his hand, face serious. Without a second of hesitation, Geralt took it. Nothing happened for a moment. Then a black mist surrounded them, blinding Geralt until he knew nothing but darkness. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens :D  
> This chapter was a monster to write, it just kept getting bigger and bigger to the point that I almost cut it in two but that would have been weird so, enjoy this almost 4000 words long chapter !  
> Given the time spent on this one, I'm a bit behind on the next chapter but I'll try to have it out next week anyway. Also this will be at least 1 chapter longer than planned because why not I guess.  
> Enjoy et bonne lecture <3

“You can open your eyes now.”

Geralt had not realised he’d closed his eyes, fighting the sudden disorientation that had gripped him. As he opened them, he saw the black shapes that had surrounded them disperse like leaves in the wind, flowing out of focus. He took a deep steadying breath.

“I fucking hate portals.”

Next to him, Jaskier was dusting himself. “This is much faster than walking darling. Though walking the shadows is always a bit unnerving innit ?” Geralt grabbed his wrist.

“Jaskier. What the fuck was that.”

“All in good time Geralt. I’ll explain later, once we’re with Yennefer. Everything is linked after all and I’d rather not have to repeat myself. It’s already confusing enough as it is.” He whispered mostly to himself, checking on Roach and leading her up the dirt trail.

It’s only then that Geralt realised something else was wrong and looked around. There was no forest around them anymore, only shrubs, rolling hills and further in the distance high mountains speckled with white dots of snow. Geralt spun only to impossibly find himself in front the gates of Kaer Morhen.

“This better be a good fucking explanation bard.”

“Chop chop Geralt, I’m freezing my pretty ass off here !”

Disregarding the comment about Jaskier - decidedly - pretty behind, Geralt led him through the gates into the stables where they cared for and left Roach. It was late enough that everyone was probably already inside , trying to stay warm. Jaskier, though still obviously nervous about whatever he wanted to ask of Geralt and Yennefer, looked around in wonder, admiring the castle. Geralt could understand his awe. Though mostly in ruins, the massive structure of the keep still radiated majesty and strength, brimming with histories that someone like Jaskier was bound to be fascinated with. The witcher had often thought last winter of everything he wanted to show Jaskier here and he was happy to be able to start with this. He took the scenic route, leading the bard through the many courtyards and gates that lead up the keep until they reached the doors of the main hall. There he made a show of opening the door for Jaskier and inviting him in with a small bow, earning himself a chuckle and the satisfaction of seeing some of the tension leaving the bard's shoulders. He could spot the moment Jaskier noticed the huge murals, hearing his soft gasp. 

“Geralt !”

The soft platter of tiny feet were all the warning he got before Ciri was on him, jumping in his arms, face hiding in his neck. He hugged her and nuzzled her hair, breathing her scent deep. It would soon be a year since they’d found each other, but he still felt humbled by the trust she put in him. He let her go, gently easing her back on the ground. 

“You’re back ! Took you far too long though.”

“Next time you go and track the bard then princess.”

With a hair toss and an indignant huff, the girl came to stand in front of him and offered her hand to the bard.

“Sure thing ! So you’re Jaskier. Nice to meet you.”

He looked at her with surprise before beaming, taking her hand in his and dropping his head to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Truly, a pleasure to meet you Cirilla.”

She curtsied back to him, all grace and politeness before throwing her hands into the air, as if exasperated beyond her years. “Finally someone with manners !”

Jaskier’s laugh resonated against the high ceiling, filling the room with sudden and bright joy. Ciri giggled with him, pressing herself against Geralt’s side as he brought a hand on her shoulder. 

“Says the girl who tried to stab my hand with a fork during lunch,” a sarcastic voice came from deeper in the hall, soon followed by its owner Lambert who stood up to greet them, Eskel in tow. 

“I’m sure you did nothing to deserve it of course,” Geralt told him, giving his brother a hug before stepping back and turning to Eskel. The scared witcher grinned and hugged him too.

“Glad to see you made it back okay. And with your bard,” he offered his hand to Jaskier who shook it enthusiastically. “It’s high time you arrived, bard, we were growing tired of this one’s moping last winter.”

“Understatement of the century.” Lambert added with an exaggerated eye roll, earning an elbow to the ribs from Geralt.

“Actually we’ll probably be heading out soon again ?” Geralt looked at the bard who, contrit, nodded in confirmation. “Jaskier needs our help with something. Know where Yennefer is ?”

“I’ll go get her !” Ciri offered, taking off at a run before anyone could say anything.

“Kids. Far too much energy in such small bodies. Makes me wanna bang my head on the walls.” 

“Shut up Lambert, you love it. How about some mulled wine in front of the fire while we wait for them ? You must be tired from your travels.” Lambert offered, gesturing them to the table and benches in front of the main fireplace. 

“Gladly.” Geralt stacked their packs against the wall, Jaskier carefully setting his lute next to them before seating themselves. Lambert loaded tanks full of sweet smelling spicy wine from a pot set at the edge of the fire and handed them over while Eskel was setting down cured cheese and flatbreads on the table.

“This should warm you up. Did you have any snow on the way ?”

Geralt threw a look at Jaskier, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier took a sip of his wine to hide a sheepish smile, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. 

“I did not see much of anything on the way to be honest,” Geralt settled for. Jaskier snorted inelegantly in his drink and the witcher patted his back none too gently. His brothers looked at them both in confusion but were stopped from asking by Ciri bouncing down the stairs and up to them, soon followed at a more reasonable pace by Vesemir and Yennefer. Ciri plucked herself in front of Jaskier, feet dangling in the air, trying and failing to discreetly steal a sip in Lambert’s tankard. Geralt stood up and walked to Vesemir, who opened his arms and engulfed him in a bear hug.

“Wolf. We were beginning to worry something had happened to you.”

“The bard was harder to track than I expected.”

“I believe an ‘I told you so’ would be in order, but I'll spare you for once.”

Yennefer, as regal as ever, nodded to him. Ever since meeting after Sodden, Yennefer had established a respectful distance that Geralt worked hard to respect, even if he sometimes grieved the intimacy they'd once shared. She, of course, was right to be reticent to risk falling back into something none of them had truly wanted nor thrived in to start with. She looked at Jaskier and nodded.

“Jaskier.”

“Yennefer.”

Was the extent of their greetings to each other. Vesemir greeted Jaskier, grabbed two more tanks full of wine and everyone seated back around the table.

“Ciri said you might not stay for long ? How come ?”

“That would be my fault.” Jaskier responded, cradling his mug. “I find myself in a troubling situation and Geralt agreed to help. I'll probably need your help to Yennefer.”

Jaskier and Yen shared a long meaningful look Geralt did not fully understand, but in the end Yennefer nodded. 

“What's the problem exactly ?”

“I'm looking for two of my friends. Have been for the past few months in fact, probably why we did not meet earlier,” he added for Geralt's benefit. “I did not find much of anything but from what little I've gathered they were there one day, gone the next. There were signs of struggles and most of their stuff was left behind. I went to every person that could have some information, travelled to all the safe houses they've ever told me about and nothing. It's like they just vanished,” Jaskier concluded in a frustrated tone, mimicking a puff of smoke going off with a flourish of his hands. 

“I can see how Geralt could be valuable here, but I don't understand why you would need Yennefer's help too,” Eskel asked hesitantly with a perplexed frown. 

Jaskier, sighting shakily and staring deep in his mug, remained silent a moment. Looking back up around the table, meeting everyone's eyes, he cleared his throat. 

“I don’t really know where to start.”

“I’ve been told it’s always best to start from the beginning bard," Yennefer said. 

“Though it's blatantly untrue, I guess that’s what I’ll have to do. I have to warn you though, it's not the prettiest of stories,” he added. Everyone looked to Ciri as one. She bristled and squared her small shoulders.

“Must I remind you I'm a war refugee ? There isn't much I haven't seen.” Daring them to contradict her, she glared at the witchers around the table. Still, Jaskier waited for Geralt's nod of approval before speaking again. He took a large gulp of wine and a steadying breath.

“Very well then. I was born in Kevir. I grew up in a happy loving family until our village was attacked by bandits. All the adults were executed, the kids rounded up and put in caged wagons. We were brought to an old castle, the kind you'd imagine is haunted, you know ? That's where I met Primrose and Luke. There were a lot of other kids too, I don't remember how many. We were parked in small windowless rooms. We tried to fight the bandits of course to run away, but we were small and famished, there wasn't much damage we could do,” he shrugged with a self deprecating smile. “Then the mages arrived and the experiments started.”

A tense silence followed this last statement. Geralt had not known any of this. Jaskier had always been cautious when talking about his past and the witcher had never pushed. He did not know what he had expected exactly but was certainly not this. Jaskier was frowning at the table, shoulders tense and head drooping. 

“Experiments ?”

Vesemir's voice rang loudly. He was looking straight at Jaskier, lips pressed in a thin line. 

“Mages did not limit themselves to witchers to experiment on. Well actually kind of, still.” Seeing their confused faces, he explained. “This happened I believe not too long after the sack of Kaer Morhen. From what I understand, all knowledge about the manufacturing of the required mutagens was lost in the process,” Vesemir confirmed at Jaskier's uncertain look. “Well, some sorcerers decided it would be a good idea to recreate it for some reason. Of course, it was mostly trial and error and required many test subjects.”

The tankard in Geralt's hand groaned under the strain when he reflexively clenched his fists around it. Lambert stood up suddenly to take some more wine, downed it and paced nervously in front of the fire. Vesemir's head was down, shoulder sagging in defeat. 

The Trials were not something they often talked about. Too much pain and death laid that way. Even more so for Lambert, who'd seen all but one of the boys his class die. Eskel and Geralt had gone through it all together at least, even if it was nothing but a small comfort. And Vesemir, though he did not feel guilty for what he thought of as a necessity at the time, had once told Geralt the children's screams still haunted his dreams, even a hundred years after the last Trial took place.

Hearing that someone had done it all over again was excruciating.

“By the end of it all it was only the three of us left,” the bard whispered, voice tight with grief. “We’d been there for gods only know how many years. All I can say is that I entered a kid and left that hell hole as an adult.”

“How did you escape ?” Ciri wondered shyly, looking at Jaskier with huge frightened eyes. Eskel put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed in reassurance. 

“With good timing and a lot of luck my young lady. The castle was attacked one day. By whom and what for, we’ve never found out. But we took this opportunity to run in the chaos it caused,” a dark look crossed Jaskier’s face, pulling his lips in an eerie smirk. “Managed to end a mage or two on the way. Set all we could on fire. But once we were out we ran as far away from the place as we could, never set foot there since. Prim’, Luke and I travelled together for some time, learned how to fend for ourselves out here. They’re my family. These kinds of things tend to bring people together I guess.” Cocking his head to the side, Jaskier continued. “That’s why I’m so worried. Nowadays we don’t see much of one another during the year but we usually spend winter together, or we write to each other at least. Not this year. No notes, nothing. And, I don’t know, I guess if some sorcerers managed to escape too that day, who’s to say they won’t try to finish what they started ?” Face tensed in anguish, Jaskier turned to Geralt, eyes pleading. He lifted a hand to his friend’s back and rubbed it slowly, soothingly. 

“If it’s somehow related to your past, it is indeed very concerning.” Vesemir confirmed at last in a solemn voice. “Do you have any leads, anything at all ?”

“I think. I think if it's to do with the mutagens then our best bet is the castle,” he stammered. “I didn’t want to go there alone, it could be a trap. If they got the two of them, they could also be after me. Or maybe I’m just being horribly paranoid I don’t know.”

“Smart decision.” Geralt approved. “We’ll go there tomorrow, see if we can find some clues. Will you come too Yen ?”

“Yes. I’d like to see if there’s anything left of their research, maybe it’ll give us some idea on who was behind it all. Also, I don’t see how you expect to go there in a day without a portal anyway.”

Geralt chuckled despite himself, still rubbing circles on Jaskier’s back.

“You’d be surprised.”

Eskel, ever the researcher, took this opportunity to ask. “If you don’t feel comfortable sharing I’ll understand, but… Did they work ? The mutagens I mean?”

“In a sense I suppose they did. We’re not witchers, far from it but we’re not humans anymore either. We are… different.”

“Oh come one, less talking, I think what we really need is a demonstration,” Lambert interjected, sitting back down on the bench. He patted the table repeatedly, staring at Jaskier. “You say you’re not human anymore, prove it.”

Geralt knew Lambert was sometimes insensitive and impulsive but this was too much. The wine and the stress of hearing about the Trials, muddled his judgement and he was taking it out on Jaskier. Geralt was about to tell to fuck off but was interrupted by Jaskier next to him.

“Oh, you’re on my friend.” 

Leaning towards Geralt, he grabbed the small knife the witcher always carried on his belt and sat up. He then put his left hand on the table, palm down, raising the knife above it. Slowly understanding what was about to happen, Geralt chuckled, used to the bard’s antics.

"There is an old tradition, a game we all can play"

He stabbed the table next to his hand a few times before spreading his fingers and Geralt could see the moment the other witchers realised what he was doing with horror. All the while, Yennefer was huffing loudly, trying and failing to look uninterested as Jaskier kept on singing.

"Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop. If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off."

Faster and faster the knife tip went down with deadly accuracy between his fingers, not once touching the skin. Ciri was trying to keep up, turning her head to follow with every of Jaskier's moves, captivated.

"And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out. But all the same I play this game cause that's what it's all about."

In rhythm with his song, Jaskier stabbed the table, everyone in the room watching him with various degrees of dread. Eskel was clutching his chair so hard Geralt was scared it might break under the strain. 

Oblivious to the mounting tension, the bard went on. He took in a great breath, pulling the knife up. 

"Oh, chop chop chop chop chop chop chop, I'm picking up the speed."

And indeed, so fast it almost blurred even to his trained eye, the tip went down and down again with each chop at an impressive speed, making half the room jump with each macabre thump. Smiling softly -creepy, creepy resonated in Geralt’s mind at the sight - Jaskier chanted the last verse of the song as everybody else held their breath.

"And if I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed."

The knife went down one last time and cut clean off his ring finger. 

Everything was silent for a second, and then ...

“Oh shit” Eskel stood up and hurried to the bard’s side. “Shit fuck shit shit.” 

While the room exploded in a flurry of mouvements, Ciri covered her eyes in horror and Yennefer remained unmoving, stunned, and just kept on staring at the severed finger lying on the table. The unbleeding finger. 

“What the fuck” she concluded. No one but Geralt heard her swear, her voice covered by the flow of insult coming out of Eskel and the demented laughs of Lambert. The witcher was bent in two, wheezing uncontrollably as Eskel stopped dead next to Jaskier when the finger moved.

Not unlike a grotesque caterpillar, the finger began crawling aimlessly on the table. 

“Gross !” Despite her scream, Ciri leaned forward, reaching out with her index finger to poke at the severed digit. 

“I did not expect that, though I suppose that proves your inhuman nature. But that doesn't really tell us what else you can do,” Vesemir wondered, professional curiosity piked.

“I suppose you could say that we are very hard to kill basically." He tilted his head, deep in thoughts. “We don't need to breathe or eat at all really, our bodies just don't understand what it means to get hurt. Cuts and wounds won't make us bleed like regular people. Serious injuries will hurt us though, especially if we're tired so it's not like we're immortal either, though we don’t age anymore,” he concluded with a shrug. “I am faster and stronger than the average person too I guess but nothing like you witchers.”

Vesemir pressed on, confused “What do you mean when you say that your body doesn't understand hurt ?”   
  
“It's hard to explain…”, he rubbed his neck, frowning. Yennefer’s eyes followed the movement, staring at where the missing finger should be. “It's like a mindset ? Unless we choose to let it, a cut is not perceived as a wound. I can make myself bleed and feel the pain. I would have to heal then though.”   
  
“Hum, this is all very interesting, don't misunderstand me. But would you mind ... taking back your finger ?” Eskel seemed terribly unsure of his phrasing. He was pointing at the finger that had almost reached the table's end.    


“Oh sure thing.” He grabbed it casually, as if it was not weird in any way to take a severed finger in hand. He carefully placed the finger in front of the stump and simply touched skin to skin. Just like that, his hand was whole again.   
  
Eskel let out a relieved sigh not so discreetly and went back to his seat. 

“What about the black mist ?” Yennefer asked.

“The what now ?”

“The black things you summon sometimes”, she insisted.

“The darklings, you mean ? I don’t summon them, they’re always around in shadows, you just don’t see them. I don’t really know much about them to be honest. Often, they’re linked to a place, a person or an object. Sometimes they’re floating in between places and things. They’re mostly friendly and helpful though so I never really stopped to wonder about them.”

Ciri was looking around the room, squinting to try and see one of those darklings allegedly living in dark corners. Yen just looked more frustrated by the second and Geralt couldn’t exactly blame her. Jaskier was clearly becoming stranger and stranger the more they learned about him An alien being, with obscure capabilities and unknown powers. But when Yen now scrutinized an enigma, Geralt still could only see Jaskier, his friend, a bubbly albeit lethal bard. The conversation drifted to their travel preparations. Ciri and Jaskier seemed wholly uninterested in the subject and launched into a discussion about the latest court songs they’d both heard before the war. The bard was more than happy to demonstrate and, a few minutes later, he was standing on the bench, on foot on the table, serenading Ciri. Time in Kaer Morhen had lessened her grief but it was rare still to witness the king of laugh Jaskier was getting from her right now. 

Geralt was gazing at them, smiling softly despite himself when Yen jabbed him in the ribs with her pointy elbow.

“Hope you’ve realised how dumb you are. If you push him away again, I’ll fucking end you.”

Geralt suspected that Yen and Jaskier shared some form of love hate relationship and this kind of declaration just came to confirm it. No matter how strange it seemed to him, he acknowledged and understood the fierce protectiveness that shone in her eyes. 

“I know. Thanks Yen.”

Looking at his brothers, Vesemir, Yen, Ciri and Jaskier around him, Geralt felt warm and whole in a way he’d rarely known. That night, he swore to himself that he would never be truly parted from any of them ever again.


	5. Chapter 5

Early morning found them standing in the training court. A light mist dusted the ground, gently lit up by the pink dawn rising on the horizon. He, Yen and Jaskier would go to the castle to investigate and try to find out where his friends might be. They were planning on coming back soon but Geralt still felt his heart break a little when Ciri hugged him and held on for dear life all throughout breakfast. 

Yennefer, remembering Geralt's joke about portals the previous day, was glaring at Jaskier, tapping her foot impatiently. The bard was nothing but his usual smug annoying self, taking inexistant lint off his deep blue doublet and letting her stew. Geralt bumped shoulders with the man to get him to stop. He looked up at him with a mischievous smile that did not fully reach his eyes nor hide the tension around his mouth. They were going to a place he’d been trapped and tortured in for years after all and Geralt, though he knew how surprisingly resilient his friend could be, was worried. Jaskier tried not to let any of his stress show and sighted a dramatic heave. 

“Alright, alright, if you’re truly so curious to see, I suppose I have no choice but to show you.”

He extended both hands to Geralt and Yen. Geralt took it, rubbing a slow circle on Jaskier skin with his thumb and squeezing once in a show of support, while Yennefer looked all but offended at the appendice but still grabbed the offered hand with a loud smack.

“Here we go then.”

Just like the day before, it took a couple seconds before anything happened. Now that he knew what to expect, Geralt noticed the thin black circle steadily growing thicker at their feet. The white morning mist started whirling around them, soon mingling with dark tendrils of smoke rising from the ground until they were completely surrounded and blinded by it all.

The disorientation was just as bad as it always was when using magic means to travel and Geralt closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of Jaskier’s hand in his own. It lasted a few seconds and stopped, darkness slowly ebbing away. 

“How the fuck did you do that ?”

“Whatever do you mean my dear ?”

Geralt opened his eyes slowly, dizziness still clutching his stomach in a nauseous hold. Fucking portals. Jaskier had already walked up ahead, Yennefer trailing right behind him and pestering him for more details on what he called ‘shadow walking’, with very little success it seemed. Trying to get past the wooziness, Geralt looked around.

The mountains were gone, now replaced with green rolling hills dotted in red and golden leafed trees. Geralt could see a small settlement somewhere south of them, a river gently running its course next to it. And up on the highest hill, a castle stood. Mostly ruins, Geralt corrected after a quick study, broken stones blackened under the creeping vines. 

He went after Jaskier and Yen, both now waiting for him by the building’s stone arched entrance. Jaskier had crossed his arms and was breathing suspiciously regularly, as if consciously trying to control his respiration. His already pale complexion was downright sickly. Eyes darting all around, he was clearly distressed. Geralt could only guess what terrible memory coming back here could bring back to the surface, despite the years that had gone by since his captivity. Some things simply could never be dulled by time. The witcher knew from experience.

Yennefer, hands raised toward the castle, was frowning in concentration. She lowered them slowly.

“There’s no one in here at the moment. Let’s go.”

Without looking back, she walked into the building, leaving them behind. Jaskier looked frozen in place. 

“You can wait for us here,” Geralt offered in as gentle a voice he could.

“No.” The answer came fast and absolute. “This place can’t hurt me anymore.”

Whether he was trying to convince himself or the witcher, Geralt was unsure but also unwilling to question it. He nodded, gently squeezed his friend’s forearm, and went in. Jaskier followed, right behind.

The place had clearly been abandoned for a long time, dust, spiders and mold now taking residence on every surface. They went after Yennefer, going down decrepit corridors and walking by rotten wood hanging on hinges where doors used to stand. They came upon stairs sinking down into the castle dark bowels and took them, finding Yennefer in the circular room it led into. She had lit the decades old torches, exposing what must have been a research laboratory. Bookshelves stood on one side against the wall, tables next to it were littered with half burned papers, broken alembics and shattered glass vials. A row of barred doors, exposing tiny dark cells, lined the other half of the room. Right in the center of it all was a black steel torture table. 

Geralt had hoped never to see one such thing ever again, remembering all too well being strapped to one himself during the Trial of the Grasses. 

“Home sweet home I guess.”

Jaskier was standing next to one of the doors, looking through the bars to the cell behind it. Finally realising what he’d just heard, red suddenly tinted Geralt’s vision, fist tightening with the rage that bubbled in his blood. This had been where they’d kept the children they’d experimented on. This was where Jaskier had grown up, in those unbearably small rooms, with for only view that of a torture chamber he’d seen kids, friends, die in. 

Yennefer must have reached the same conclusion, going through stacks of books and papers much more violently than required, sending dust clouds to float around the room. Jaskier joined her and started to look around as well, inspecting boxes full of vials in the corner. 

But Geralt couldn’t tear his eyes away from the cell. Damp stone and rusty bars, the only furniture left after years of decay a molded wooden pallet. It was small, barely long enough for a kid to lay fully on, definitely too small for a young man to be comfortable. Bile rose to his mouth as he pictured Jaskier sleeping in here for years on and he had to press shaky fingers against his eyes to scrub the images away unless he started tearing the whole place apart. 

“Well hello there.”

Jaskier’s voice rang loud in the silence. Geralt and Yennefer both turned to the bard. He’d just moved another crate from the corner he’d been searching, uncovering a small hole where a stone had come loose from the wall. Geralt could not see anything, and had it been anyone else kneeling in front of that wall he would have dismissed it as nothing. But Jaskier simply lifted his cupped hands to the crack and waited. 

Ever so slowly, from deep within the shadowed void, countless bright red eyes blinked. A shapeless form started to pour out of the wall into Jaskie’s hands, filling it with inky curls and shiny red eyes. 

“Look at you, what a beauty,” Jaskier cooed, a delighted smile on his face.

Geralt did not agree at all about the beauty part and had to resist swatting the thing far away from the bard when a slant full of jagged teeth opened wide at the praise. It let out a high pitch gurgling screech that had Jaskier giggling and grated at the witcher's sensible ears.

“It doesn’t look like those I’ve seen before.”

Yennefer, ever an avid and curious learner, leaned above Jaskier’s shoulder to get a better look.

“There are no two identical darklings. They tend to change form depending on where they live so their shapes just keep on evolving.”

The flowing inky void was rolling around happily - as far as Geralt could guess - in Jaskier’s hand, screeching its heart out. The bard looked back at it with a start after an especially loud squeal. 

“Really ? When was that ?”

“Don’t tell me you can understand it.”

“Of course I can, hush now.” Bringing his hands up to his face, Jaskier talked directly to the hundred eyed beast. “Excuse my friend’s rudeness. What were you saying ?”

The thing yelled for a whole minute, Jaskier nodding in understanding and gasping a few times, sending the black mist into another series of shriek before it finally stopped.

“Other people came here not too long ago. At least one of them was a mage, from what I understand. They searched the place, took some things and left.”

“Did it tell you what they looked like ?”

“I think it was Nilfgaardian soldiers. It described a round yellow emblem on dark clothes. The mage was a dark skinned woman.”

“Fringilla. She's a Nilfgaard sorceress.” Yennefer immediately recognized. “But why would Nilfgaard come here ?”

Geralt did not have to think too hard on it before it all became clear to him, realization sinking like a stone in his stomach. 

“The Empire is at war. Making witcher soldiers would be a great advantage for Emhyr var Emreis’s army.” 

Silence followed his conclusion, Yen and Jaskier slowly absorbing the news. The witch started pacing, mumbling to herself, her long black dress leaving swirling trails in the dust. 

“Nilfgaard has Luke and Prim’ then ?” Jaskier’s voice was small but unwavering.

“That or they’ve hidden away to run from them.” Geralt did not want to lie to his friend about what had most certainly happened. “In any case, they’re alive and we’ll help them,” he swore, meeting Jaskier’s eyes with a solemn nod. 

“I haven’t heard anything about Fringila since Sodden,” Yen said, coming back to stand next to them. “We should go to Novigrad, ask Triss if she knows anything about her. I’ll take some of those books to study them a bit more too.”

Jaskier hummed in assent, bringing his hands back to the crack. 

“Thank you for your precious help.”

The darkling screamed one last time, nuzzled against Jaskier’s thumb and crawled back into the wall, disappearing in the darkness. They walked back out the castle. The search had been much faster than any of them had expected and it was still early in the morning when they got out into the open fields, the sun still too low to truly warm them up after their chilly adventure down into the ruins. 

“My turn now.” 

Yennefer waved a hand in front of her nonchalantly, a portal opening in a flash of sudden light. She walked through it, sending one last smug look at Jaskier above her shoulder.

“This woman is a show off Geralt, I don’t understand what you see in her,” the bard huffed, clearly irritated at the powerfully childish display of magic.

“Because clearly you are the most humble person yourself.”

“Well, obviously yes.”

Geralt couldn’t help but ruffle the bard’s hair before bringing him in a side hug. Clearly, he had a type - he did not think, turning a blind eye to the swell of fondness at the bard’s antics. Now was not the time to dwell on it. Later. There would be ample time later to think about it.

“Let’s go before she closes it just to annoy you further.”

“That would be just like her, wouldn’t it.”

They went through the portal and arrived into a typical Novigrad’ back alley, surrounded on all sides by tall brick houses, rats scattering in the gutter at their abrupt arrival. 

“This way.”

Yen led them through the maze that was this city. As usual, smells and noises threatened to overwhelm the witcher, their sudden onslaught almost a punch to his heightened senses. Jaskier, noticing his discomfort - still so attuned to his witcher friend despite the time spent apart that it made Geralt heart squeeze - put a hand on the small of his back, guiding him forward, talking nonsense about the things that had changed since their last visit to the city so long ago now. Geralt focused on it, trying to let outside stimuli slide by. It helped, listening to Jaskier’s steady and still familiar voice and, sooner than he’d expected, they reached their destination. 

Yennefer knocked on the door of a posh house, tall stained glass windows and heavy wooden carved beams decorating the facade. A minute later, Triss came to open the door.

“Yenn !” 

Triss took Yennefer in her arms, hugging her for a long moment before releasing her, eyes shining. 

“I missed you my friend.”

Yennefer let a small, rare genuine smile stretched her red lips. She did not say anything but this was already more feelings than she usually agreed to show. She extended her hand toward Geralt and Jaskier.

“We might have a problem we need your help with.”

“Geralt, Jaskier. Of course, please come in.” Triss led them to a cosy lounge room, plants growing everywhere, heavy drapes hanging from the wall and a burning fire chasing the cold air away. They all sat down around a small table, Triss offered some tea, and once everyone was served, settled on a couch next to Yennefer.

“What can I help you with ?”

Yennefer launched into a quick résumé of the situation, Jaskier filling in the gaps when needed. By the end of it, Triss was wearing a deep concerned frown. 

“I can’t say I’ve heard anything about Fringilla’s whereabouts unfortunately. But,” she stopped a second, looking deeply unsettled, “there is something that could be linked to your problem. I’ve been asked to look into weird disappearances in Novigrad lately. Young street kids have been snatched away for months now, some higher born too. I haven’t had a lead until a few days ago, when bodies started showing up on the banks of the river. I was actually planning to contact you Geralt,” she said, turning to him. “These kids were given mutagens. They had witcher’s eyes.”

“Fuck.” The heartfelt insult was a poor summary of his thoughts but he couldn’t get anything else out past the lump in his throat. This was turning out to be a fucking nightmare coming true, for both Jaskier and him it seemed. 

“I don’t remember any of the kids I was with ever getting golden eyes. They must have perfected the recipe already.” Jaskier’s hands were tight around his mug.

“We must hurry. Geralt, Jaskier, go to the coroner, examine the bodies. Maybe you’ll find something useful.” Yennefer ordered before pulling a stack of the books she’d taken out of thin air. “I brought some things from the former laboratory Triss. It’s not much but it could give us some leads.”

Effectively dismissed, both men stood and left the house. Geralt had already worked with the coroners in Novigrad and knew the way there. 

As they were walking up the street, he could feel Jaskier’ concerned look drilling a hole on his back. He slowed down to a more sedate pace until he was walking next to the bard. He didn’t have to wait long before Jaskier laced his arm around Geralt’s and he spoke.

“Are you alright ?” He asked, voice low enough that no one else in the street would hear. 

Jaskier’s warm and quiet concern washed over him. He forced himself to take a deep breath, only now feeling the tension slowly drop from his face. The situation had turned out to be much more complicated than a simple search and rescue. It was stirring things Geralt would rather not have to remember and raising new concerns at the same time. He would have to report to Vesemir as soon as possible. This all had to be stopped and this time, they would destroy any and all information they could find on witcher mutagens. He refused to let this happen to any other kids.

He didn’t say it all, barely hummed noncommittally, but he did not dislodge Jaskier’s arm, which was probably answer enough for the bard. 

The grim building they were looking for soon came into view. Geralt pushed open the heavy oak door, nodding to the guard on the way in. Jaskier quickly asked a passing man for more information, dropping in Triss's name as an explanation for their presence. The man hurried to give them all the information they needed. 

They were led into and left on their own in an ice cold room deep below the surface where they kept bodies of ongoing investigation. On the two stones tables at the center of the room, dead kids laid. 

It was not something one ever got used to, Geralt thought while approaching the corpses. There was something deeply unsettling, unnatural to seeing dead children. It chook something deep within him, always had but maybe even more so now that he had Ciri to care for. Jaskier had not moved from the threshold. He was unsettlingly still and it took a moment for Geralt to realise that he was not breathing. Though he knew Jaskier did not technically need to breath, he usually did anyway to blend in. But right now he'd stop, chest unmoving, silent. 

Geralt, choosing to give Jaskier some space to master his shock, started his investigation. The kids were young, probably seven or eight. They were too small and thin, probably some of the street kids Triss had talked about. Standing close to one of the tables, Geralt focused on the tallest boy. Bruises marred his arms and there were red lines around his ankles, clear signs of shackles. His hair, though mostly brown, showed strands of a disturbingly familiar silver. Taking a steadying breath, he leaned forward and pulled one of his eyes open. A golden slanted eye stared back at him, almost accusatory he thought distantly. 

He was so focused on the eye that he almost did not hear the soft gasp and fall behind him. He immediately unsheathed his steel sword and turned around but he was still too late to dodge the dart that pierced his neck. Bringing a hand up and pulling it out, he took stock of the situation. Jaskier was unconscious on the floor, two men already reaching for him. Three others, armed with swords and daggers, were stepping through the door, ready to face the witcher. Just as he calculated the odds of winning and getting to his friend, whatever had coated the dart started to affect him. His vision was swimming dangerously and his balance went to shit in seconds. 

Perspiration ran down his face as he took a step forward, then a second, sword still held in front of him. He struck his first opponent and managed to run him through but was too weak to stop the two other fighters from sending him sprawling on the stone floor. A man stepped hard on his hand, forcing him to let go of his sword. He felt a first kick on his kidneys, then onesent his head smacking on the ground. Dizzy and lightheaded, he tried his hardest to fight back but soon he couldn't do anything other than brace against the hits.

It actually took him a moment to realise the beating had stopped. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking out the blood that had dripped in. There was no one else in the room. Getting to his knee, vision going in and out of focus, head splitting with each move, he looked around. 

There was no one. 

"Jaskier ?"

Frantically, lying heavily against the stone table, he stood up. Dread closed in a  **vice** around his lungs, small panicky pants leaving him in a rush.

“Jaskier !”

Silence was the only answer he got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger ? :D  
> I'm already working on the next chapter so hopefully you won't have to wait for too long. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too, the plot is now in full swing ! Two chapters left to go :D


	6. Chapter 6

Head bent over the book she was reading, Yennefer was having a hard time soaking up all that she had learned so far. As a sorceress, she was no stranger to the so-called experiments some magic wielders had performed throughout history. But it was an altogether different thing to now be reading about some of the atrocities they actually performed on children. She had had a basic understanding of what was entailed in creating witchers, of the ingredients and spells involved in the process. The chemistry of it was something she had thought about herself, had even considered to maybe try and regrow her womb. The detailed analysis and croquis of the resulting catastrophic effects it could have made her sight in relief that she had not persevered with this option. 

Countless children had been lost to these experiments. To think that Geralt and Jaskier had gone through it themselves was sickening. Nausea clenched her stomach with every new description and she had to put the book down a minute to take a sip of wine to rinse off the foul taste of bile rising in her mouth.

Triss was also studying some of the papers she had brought over from the laboratory, taking down notes as she leafed through it all. Yen was grateful for her help and support, as she could not have done it all by herself, as loath as she was to admit it. 

A sudden crash downstairs made them put their books down. They left the study to go see what the commotion was about only to find Geralt face down near the entrance, struggling to stand up. Blood was dripping from a nasty cut on his forehead and he seemed oddly unsteady. Jaskier was nowhere to be seen. 

“They have him.”

Triss ran and kneeled next to him. She helped him up and together with Yen, they managed to get him into a chair in the next room.

“What happened ?” Yen could already guess most of what had occured, given the circumstances, but she needed all the details she could get if she was to get them out of this shit. 

“We were attacked at the coroner. I was drugged,” he snarled, waving vaguely at his neck. Triss leaned closer to him to inspect his wounds, sniffed at his neck before she stood up and grabbed several bottles in the nearby cabinet. “They managed to knock Jaskier out and they took him. You have to find him.”

Though she knew his burning glare was not meant for her, it still left her unnerved to be on the receiving end of his rage. If the strength of a witcher was no joking matter, their wrath made them intimidatingly lethal, even to her eyes. 

“It’s not that simple Geralt, there’s no actual spell to locate someone, you know that.”

“I don’t care !” Trying to stand despite his shaky legs, he fell back into the chair with a light push from Triss. She thrusted the potions in his hands, encouraging him to drink to counteract the poison still painting the veins on his face a morbid black. “I’ll go find him myself if I have to.”

“Don’t be absurd, they’re probably long gone through a portal already,” she snapped, pacing the room. “If they’re reproducing the experiments as they’re described in the research we’ve read, they need a lot of room and an isolated place to conduct it. There’s just nothing like that here,” she concluded.

“I’ll go back to the coroner, see if I can trace any magic that’s been done there,” Triss offered once she was sure the potions were working correctly, Geralt’s wounds slowly closing up.

“There’s no time !”

“Stop being a moron for a minute and let me think, Geralt !”

Just as the witcher was about to shout back an angry retort, Yennefer felt the pendant around her neck vibrate. For a moment she simply stared at it dumbly, unable to recall what the glowing and trembling of the black stone implied. With a sudden jolt, the memory of that gloomy day up on the dragon mountain flooded her mind and she ran up the stairs back into the study, frantically looking for the map she’d seen earlier in the afternoon.

Geralt was calling, stumbling after her, still a bit unsteady it seemed despite Triss’s help. Ignoring him, she pulled on the chain around her neck, snapping it.

“You gave Jaskier a pendant ?” Triss caught on, tone hopeful.

Yennefer didn’t answer, too focused on the slowly swinging stone, letting the fluctuating vibration lead her hand until finally the pendant settled above a spot on the map.

“He’s there.” The place seemed to be somewhere south of Velen, near the main nilfgaardian encampments. 

“Let’s go.” Geralt had already turned and adjusted the swords on his back, tying the sack of potions Triss was offering to his belt just in case. Yen didn’t contradict him this time and, once in the courtyard she conjured a portal. Triss would stay there and prepare to be able to treat anyone needing healing. Yennefer barely had the time to nod before Geralt pushed through the portal. She hurried after him, worried that he might make a scene before she could stop him.

She stepped through the swirling magic and arrived in the middle of a flower garden. Tall hedges surrounded the place and led her gaze to a huge wooden gate. Geralt, probably blinded by his worry, was already there, not even waiting for her. At his feet laid two guards, covered in blood, dead. Without looking back, Geralt pushed forward, rushing toward the mansion standing behind the gate. Yennefer ran, trying to reach the morronic witcher before it was too late, but already he had disposed of two more guards and gone into the building.

When she got in not a minute later, the lobby was empty. Following the sound of fighting, she turned left into a corridor. Geralt was there, opening every door as he walked further, barely sparing a glance to what was inside and going to the next. 

“Geralt wait !” Yennefer hissed in a mock whisper, only to see the boor of a man going down the stairs at the end of the hallway. They’d probably been spotted by now, she knew that, but there was no need to stupidly disclose their position if they did not need to. She huffed, looking cautiously in the rooms the witcher had gone by, trying to see if maybe he’d missed anything in his haste. She found a simple parlor and a library before she stepped into what had to have been a workshop of some kind. Vials littered the floor, books were stacked high on the table, next to weird, bloody instruments she tried hard not to think too hard about. She was about to exit the room to follow Geralt when she heard it.

“Hello ?”

Spinning around, she tried to find the source of the small inquisitive voice but couldn’t find it.

“Over here !”

The voice was coming from the top of a bookshelf. She still could not see anyone and the space between the top shelf and the ceiling was far too small for anyone to hide there. Puzzled, she called out.

“Show yourself.”

“Look, I’d really love to come out but, you see, I can’t really move right now. Could you maybe give me a hand ?”

The voice was low but clearly female. Suspicious - but a bit curious - Yennefer grabbed a chair to stand on and reach above the bookshelf. She almost fell down with a start when she saw the severed head laying up there in the dust.

“Thank the gods,you’re not one of them. It was hard to see from up here but I heard some fighting so I thought maybe someone had come to help or something. Can you take me down please ? It’s horribly dusty here, makes my nose scratch and let me tell you, it torture really, not being able to scratch your nose because you don’t have hands.”

The head - person she corrected - was looking at her, large dark eyes earnest and expectant. Her pale face was angular and finely chiseled, as beautiful as some of the ancient marble statues Yennefer had collected over the years, she thought absently. Her long nose was slightly crooked, probably from being broken one to many times. When she smiled, thin laughing lines appeared on her cheeks and showed off an impressive set of pointy canines. Carefully, Yennefer hesitantly put her hands on each of her cheeks and lifted the head.

It was surprisingly heavy, hard to balance, skin pulling taunt on the woman’s cheeks next to Yennefer’s hands. Mostly, it was a completely surreal feeling to lift the head at eye level after she climbed down the chair. The skin was badly torn at the edges of her neck, and though she tried her hardest not to look too closely, Yennefer still got a glimpse of bone sticking out the mangled flesh. She felt herself turn a little green and tried to concentrate on the unstopping flow of words coming from the head instead.

“Thank you thank you thank you ! I don’t know how long they kept me up there. Said I talked too much and disturbed the experiments, can you believe the audacity ?” she huffed indignantly. “Now, I’m infinitely grateful already and I wouldn’t like to push my luck, but maybe you could help me find my body ?”

Yen’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of what she was seeing when it clicked.

"Are you Primrose ?”

“Yes ?” the head answered with a perplexed and slightly more cautious frown. “How did you know ?

“I’m Yennefer, I know Jaskier. We’ve come to rescue him.”

“Jaskier’s here ? Oh shit, we have to hurry, please !”

“Where do I go ?”

“Down the stairs, they’ve transformed the cellars into cells. Hurry please.”

Cradling Primrose’s head in the crook of her ebow like some monstrous baby, Yennefer exited the room and ran down to the stairs she’d seen Geralt take earlier. As she walked down the last steps, she saw him plunge his sword into the last nilfgaardian standing, finishing off what must have been a whole patrol given the number of fresh corpses at the witcher’s feet.

“Holy shit, you’re Geralt ? I’m so happy you’re here !” Primrose’s voice broke the heavy silence. Geralt, hearing the unknown voice, turned around, sword lifted high. Upon seeing Yennefer, he frowned. She could see the moment his eyes landed on the head in her arms.

“I know right. Bit unconventional as far as first meetings go but hey, what can you do? A pleasure still I’m sure.”

Geralt’s befuddled and slightly disgusted face would have been highly comical in any other circumstances, but the urgency of the situation was still pulsing through Yennefer’s veins. 

“Where to now ?” She asked, looking down at Primrose.

“Turn left, down the hall. Everyone’s held there, they probably put Jaskier there too.”

Immediately, Geralt followed her directions, Yennefer right behind him, on the lookout for any other soldiers, finding none for now. They reached a smaller corridor, several doors on each side. 

“Luke ? Luke where are you ?” Primrose shouted, voice echoing in the empty hall.

They all held their breath for a moment, listening carefully before heavy blows banged on the third door, shaking it on its frame. Geralt walked up to it.

“Move away from the door,” he warned loudly. He waited a second before blasting Aard on the door, sending it flying into the room, crushed to bits of woods by the blow. They went in what had to be the old cellar Primrose had talked about. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lower luminosity, so Yennefer didn’t realise right away what she was seeing. But after a couple seconds, she could make out almost a dozen silhouettes, all but one too small to be anything but children. Another one was laid down along the wall, hand bound by what she soon realized were dimeritium shackles. Now that she looked for it, she saw they were all shackled.

“You look like shit Luke, are you alright ?”

The tall silhouette stepped forward out of the darkest corner, large shoulders and heavily muscled arms imposing. It was a man, skin so dark it looked almost a deep blue in the low light of the cell. In complete contrast, his eyes were an unfocused milky white, making Yennefer wonder at his eyesight. The smaller forms, indeed children, were huddled around him, seeking protection from the newcomers. They were young, no older than ten, too thin to be healthy. Even in the dark, the witch could see the unsettlingly familiar gold of their eyes looking back at her worryingly. The man, Luke, came to stand in front of her and hummed in a deep, low voice.

“You don’t look too good yourself.”

“Fuck you too then.” Primrose huffed with a small laugh. “Have you seen Jaskier ?” she asked with more urgency. “These two have come to help him, they say he’s been taken too.”

“I heard him pass by the door. They took him straight to the test chambers, he must still be there.”

“Where ?” Geralt growled, face contorted in rage. Luke barely finished his instructions before Geralt raced out of the room toward said chambers. 

“Wait !” Yennefer yelled after him uselessly. 

“Put me back, we’ll go together,” Primrose offered, looking up at her. Yen only now understood that the figure laying on the ground was actually missing its head. She went and kneeled next to it, hovering uncertainty. Keeping in mind the way Jaskier had simply touched skin to put his finger back, she gently brought Prim’s head down until it brushed her neck. Before her unbelieving eyes, skin knitted itself back together, sickening cracks popping as the bones grinned back in place. 

“Much better thank you.”

Realising that she left her hands on the other woman’s cheeks, she snapped them back to her sides. 

Primrose stood up, cracking her neck as she rose with a relieved moan. She brought her bound hands up, scratching her nose furiously, grumbling about dust. Yennefer couldn’t help but stare at the tall woman in front of her, marveling at what she’d just seen. A loud blast of magic suddenly shaking the walls brought her back to the moment. The kids screamed at the unexpected noise, Luke hovering above them protectively. 

The two women looked at each other and took off, running towards the sounds of fight. It died down as suddenly as it had started. Yennefer’s heart sped up, fear gripping at her, hurrying her steps. 

The scene they came too was deeply disturbing. The small room was empty but for the table at its center. The walls were painted red with the blood of the two mages now sprawling lifeless on the floor. In a corner of the room, small bodies were piled up unceremoniously. This all brought furious tears rolling down her cheeks, her boiling furor reaching new highs. 

Geralt was next to the table, murmuring sweet reassurances to Jaskier as he was trying to unlock the cuffs keeping him tied to the table. A wide gash crossed the witcher’s face, bleeding sluggishly down his cheeks and nose to drip on the floor.

“Are you alright ?” The bard asked Geralt, worried for him despite his own hurts. 

The small sluggish voice sent a fresh wave of tears rolling, relief and anger battling fruitlessly for command in her chest. Small wounds that would have normally healed in a wink littered the bard’s chest. Nothing that seemed life threatening at first glance, but they had made a number on him in what little time they’d had him. They’d taken off his shirt to access his chest and, in the cold air of the cellar, his skin was frighteningly pale. 

“It’s the drugs.” The low growl came from next to her. Primrose, fists tight on her side, face taunt, carried on. “ We just have to wait for it to flush out of his system and he’ll be right as rain. They’ve managed to make it so our wounds don’t heal during the first few times they work on us. Hoped it would make us more docile or something I guess.” She spat on the dead mage at her feet. “Fucking morrons, the lot of them.”

“We should go. There could be more coming soon.” Yennefer startled badly. She berrated herself for lowering her guard, too focused on Geralt and Jaskier but as she turned around she saw no one. Primrose turned not to the empty corridor but to the shadowy corner near the entrance. 

“Bring the kids here, we’ll go as soon as you come.”

Now that she was looking, Yennefer noticed two lighter spots hovering in the inky darkness and, as she focused on it, it blinked and disappeared. Surprised once again, Yennefer flinched. Primrose chuckled kindly and patted her arm. 

“He’s disgustingly good with the shadows. Always managed to use it much better than either of us could. Even with dimeritium on he can still use it a bit.”

Yennefer turned back to Geralt when she heard the clang of metal as he threw the now useless keys to the ground, where Primrose picked them up to try and unlock her own cuffs. Ever so gently, he lifted Jaskier in his arms, carefully cradling his weak and wounded body against his chest. It was almost painful to witness the tenderness of his movements and she had to look away when he pressed a desperate kiss on the bard’s brow, breathing him in deeply. 

The pitty patter of small feets coming toward them gave her a good excuse to turn her back to the emotional moment the two men were sharing. The kids, still wary but obviously hopeful, were looking at her with huge eyes, Luke closing the march. She stopped them before they could enter though, unwilling to let them witness the gory scene. Geralt came to stand next to them, Jaskier’s face hidden in the crook of his neck.

It would not be easy, holding a portal long enough for that many people to walk through. But as had often been the case in her life, she would do what she had to despite the odds and the efforts it would cost her. And so she focused for a second, breathed in deep while pinpointing the place she wanted to go and let go of the chaos bubbling in her chest. A portal came to life in the hallway. Primrose and Luke hushered the children through it, soon followed by Geralt and Jaskier until finally, deeply feeling the stretch on her magic, she too stepped into it, leaving the nightmares behind them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, here we go, just on more chapter to go !  
> We're once more on lock down here in France so I guess I'll have ample time to write the last chapter of this fic next week :D I've been having a hard time working on it but I managed to pull through anyway. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, I really liked writing it from Yen's POV, she's the best.  
> Thanks to everyone who left a kudo or a comment so far, you really are the best <3 It always makes my day to see a new message in my inbox hehe  
> Anyway, stay safe wherever you are and see you next chapter !


	7. Chapter 7

Jaskier slept for two whole days. In that time, their mismatched group arrived in Novigrad only to travel right back to Kaer Morhen, deemed much safer. The kids were exhausted but Luke, Triss and Primrose managed to get them to push through the new portal with a few kind words and reassurances. Geralt, for all he wanted to take care of them too -he could only guess how confusing and scary this must all be to such young children- could not tear himself away from Jaskier. 

Despite Yen's quick diagnosis - "he's fine Geralt"- Geralt was still unable to relax. The bard's skin seemed almost translucent in the daylight, thin blue veins running underneath showing through. Dark bruises had bloomed under his eyes and his breathing was far too shallow to Geralt's taste. 

Their arrival at the keep was somewhat chaotic. Nobody had actually expected so many of them to come, forcing Eskel to run to the storage to rummage through old chests full of tiny clothes and heavy blankets for everyone and Lambert to take out some ancient huge pot to prepare a copious stew in record time. Ciri was handing out steaming plates, running from the kitchen to the tables in the hall, trying not to spill anything. 

Geralt only saw it from the corner of his eye as he was gently laying Jaskier's now unconscious form on a table to be examined by Triss. He kept his hand between his own while she cast a few spells on his friend.

“I can’t do much I’m afraid. The potion they gave him prevents me from using any magic to speed up his recovery. I’ll make sure nothing gets infected but other than that, we’ll just have to wait.”

And wait he did. He brought Jaskier up to his room, tucking him snuggly in his own bed. He just left the room to go check on Ciri, only to find her playing with some of the older kids in the courtyard under Vesmir's watchful eyes. Triss had examined everyone and, though the boys and girls were malnourished and clearly traumatized, they were healthy enough. Primrose and Luke had gone through the worst of it but their amazing constitution had already taken care of most of the damage. Triss' horrified face had dragged a tired smile on Geralt’s lips when Primrose had enthusiastically reenacted her own decapitation as she was talking about her captivity. 

Geralt could see some of Jaskier’s exuberance and cheerfulness in Primrose, spotting a similar smirk or gesture here and there as she spoke. She was more on the feral side though, Geralt concluded when she spoke in detail of what she was planning to do to the surviving mages once she found them. To Geralt’s slight worry, Ciri was in obvious awe of her. 

Luke was more on the silent side. He never left the kids for too long and he always seemed to when one needed him, appearing out of nowhere to take care of them. He’d explained to Triss he had lost his eyes long ago during their childhood as a result of the experiments. This didn’t seem to bother him though and he could navigate the keep without any assistance. When asked how he managed to do this, he’d only smiled mysteriously. Prim had later explained that though his eyes didn’t work anymore, his strong connection to the darklings and the shadows had granted him some abilities which she refused to speak too much about. 

Once reassured that everyone was taken care for, he bathed quickly and went back to his room and waited. Many came to check on them both - Yennefer, Vesemir, Ciri, Luke, Primrose all came and went, bringing food, comfort and hushed conversations with them. Jaskier slept through it all. Slowly but steadily, his face regained some of its usual colors and his breathing deepened and softened. The wounds on his chest started to fade, appearing just a tiny bit smaller every time Geralt checked. 

By the end of the second day, he settled near the fireplace to meditate for the night. His own injuries had also disappeared thanks to Triss’ care but exhaustion pulled at his eyes and, though he couldn’t resign himself to go to sleep, meditation would do him some good. It was some hours later, deep in the night, that a muffled voice brought him back to the room.

“You should sleep.”

He blinked, slowly taking in the dim light of the dying fire in front of him. He turned to the bed. Jaskier’s face was half hidden by the blanket he’d pulled up to his nose but his eyes were crinkled in delight, betraying the smile hiding under. 

“How are you feeling ?”

“I should be the one asking that,” Geralt answered, walking to the bed and sitting gently next to the bard. “You slept for two days. Does anything hurt still ?”

Jaskier shook his head, sitting up against the headboard. “I’m right as rain. There’s not much a good night sleep won’t heal. That being said, that potion of theirs was really nasty,” he added with a disgusted wince. “How’s everyone else ?”

“Everyone's fine. We got the kids and your friends out. They’re all here in the keep.”

“Those poor kids,” Jaskier sighed, frowning sadly and looking down. “What will happen to them ?”

Geralt took his hand and squeezed it tenderly. “Vesemir offered to raise them here.” Jaskier looked up at once, clearly surprised by the news. “He’s always liked kids,” Geralt explained with a shrug. “It’s been a long time since he had the chance to care for anyone other than my brothers and I. And we still don’t know the extent of the mutation they went through and how it may have affected them. He’ll know how to answer their questions and give them some guidance.” After a small pause he added. “I’m not sure about it but I think Luke’s planning on staying here and helping him.”

“That would be just like him,” Jaskier chuckled. His thumb was trancing distracting lazy circles on Geralt’s hand. “He was always the one taking care of us back when we were kids. Still is most of the time. How are they ?”

“They’re okay. Triss examined them and found nothing out of the ordinary. For them anyway. Luke never leaves the kids more than he needs to and I think Ciri has a crush on Primrose,” the witcher couldn’t help but shudder at the thought. Jaskier snorted, laughing goofily.

“I’m glad. I suppose they’re all asleep right now,” he said, looking at the dark night out the window. “I’ll have to wait till tomorrow I guess. So, there will be a new generation of witchers after all.”

“I’m not sure. None of us were given the choice back then and neither were they. I just hope.” Geralt breathed deeply once, twice, trying to find the right words. “It’s not an easy life. I just hope we can help them learn to live with their mutations without forcing them onto the Path.”

Jaskier smiled softly at that. “We’ll make sure to give them the choice then.”

His heart skipped a bit and his breath caught in his throat, a lump appearing suddenly. “We ?”

“Hmmhmm. You won’t be able to get rid of me this time my darling witcher. I plan to chronicle everything that happens here. It’s history we’re leaving and I’ll be damn if I don’t put it into the most magnificent and famous song the Continent has ever known. Princesses, castles and grand rescues ! Can you imagine, Geralt ? ”

Geralt could only marvel at him, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of affection. He had come to terms with it, found the meaning of the emotions that submerged him everytime he was with Jaskier. He just loved this ridiculous bard more than he could say. 

Emboldened by his epiphany, Geralt tugged on their joined hands, bringing Jaskier near. Before the bard could say anything, Geralt pulled him into a hug, bringing him ever closer, nuzzling his hair. Jaskier stayed still for a second, surprised, before returning the hug, practically climbing into Geralt’s lap in his haste. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” Geralt let himself admit quietly in the peaceful silence. Whether he   
was referring to the abduction or this past year without the bard was unclear, but the feeling remained true nonetheless.

“I’m stronger than that. It’d take much more to take me away from you.”

Geralt straightened, lifting a hand to cup Jaskier’s face. A soft blush colored the bard’s usually white cheeks and he smiled shyly, nuzzling up against his hand. “I’d rather we never find out just how much it would take exactly if that’s alright with you.” He brushed his nose against Jaskier’s, their speeding breath mingling. “I’d even rather we never parted from now on.”

For once at a loss for words, Geralt felt more than saw Jaskier nod, bringing their face ever closer. His mouth hovered near the witcher’s lips, breath shaking. His eyes were searching Geralt’s face, as if looking for the answer to some unfathomable puzzle. He came closer just to move away once, twice, hesitation clear in his frown. Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s neck, fisting his hand in the softly curling hair with a low growl.

“What are you waiting for ?”

This was all the encouragement the bard needed. He crashed their lips in a hungry kiss, pulling on Geralt’s shirt to bring them closer. Geralt welcomed it with passion, biting at Jaskier’s plump lip, running his tongue on it to soothe it after, drawing out a throaty moan from the man shaking on his lap.

They lost themselves for a moment, learning one another through taste and touch for the first time. The kiss lasted until Jaskier drew back, fighting to catch his breath with an ecstatic grin. 

“You’ll never be rid of me now.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

There was still much to be done. Lambert and Vesemir were planning a final raid in the mansion where they’d been conducting the experiments to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again. The kids would need help and care to pull through what they’d just lived. Jaskier and Geralt still had much to talk about for things to fully be alright again.

But for now, here, they were together. And that’s all that truly mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is ! That a wrap for this fic :D  
> Maybe there will be some oneshot in the futur, just because I love the Addams vibe too much to truly let it go. But for now we're done !
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, it gave me a hard time but I love it anyway. Thank you for reading it <3


End file.
